Confuzzled
by Mystic Angel 007
Summary: Murdock centric but Face/Murdock/Hannibal friendship. Mild swearing.Enjoy.


**Title:** Confuzzled

**Part:** 1/1

**Rating:** K+ - minor swears

**Beta: **Shadowwalker213

**AN:** Cruisers were not launched until 2000 and medicine is a current song…..so if you are as stickler for accurate details this may not be for you.

Knowing that you aren't always in control of your mental capacities is one thing; having it thrown in your face is something else. Even though he had coped with it all his life, it still hurt like vicious mother. It was like pouring vinegar on an open wound, which this jerk was basically doing with a smile of his face. The bastard. _What did I ever do to you? I don't even know you._

"You're that insane pilot that escapes from the V.A – Part of the A-Team."

O_h great!_

"Crashed any choppers recently?"

"... medications... mental... psychiatric ward."

_Why me?_

Not what he wanted to hear. If he wanted to hear anything beyond CCR cranking from the jukebox.

"Have you ever hit on that reporter you guys team up with? I'd love some of that" etcetera. Jeez this guy was a creep and a jerk.

Murdock gave him a 'one more word about her and I'll kill you' stare. Taking the not too subtle clue, the man finally backed down, but Murdock's mood had already reached a mixture of depressed and angry – so much for _getting lucky_ tonight.

All H.M. Murdock wanted was to have a cold beer and forget about life, about who and what and how he was. Was that too much to god damn ask? Maybe later pick up a local chicka and rock the casbah. When you want to be alone, the universe has a way of making sure you find people you know (or in this case, know you, by reputation anyway) and not giving you the space you need. Let's face it; sometimes you just _need_ the space. Taking the final sip from his first (and last) coldie, Murdock got off the stool, left enough to cover his drink, put on his jacket, and walked out into the night air.

He didn't want to go back to Hannibal and the others in a mood like this. It would lead to one of those Hannibal/Murdock talks and he so wasn't going there right now. _Why me? I play fair and I'm a nice guy – why do you mock me so? What the fuck is your problem, Universe? Tell me, damn it._

"Tell me," he whispered into the cold night as he zipped his jacket right up. _Maybe I shoulda decked the dickhead for insulting me and more importantly, Amy, but what would that do? Prove I am a nut case? Add to my reputation? I don't know anymore. I just don't fucking know._ _Fuck!_

At the moment he felt like he was back in high school and had just gone ten rounds with that douche bag that constantly tortured him, leaving him feeling like suicide was a great alternative. It was 11 o'clock on a Saturday night and he was relieving school yard bullshit - what a great night this was. Then he felt rain drops hit his head. A_nd it just gets better_. Murdock kept walking despite the light shower; the worst thing that could happen was he'd get sick right? Well, when you're already sick and the world apparently knows about it what's one more cause? He was talking to himself and didn't even care that he was only voicing half on the conversation, it just didn't matter.

He didn't know how far he had walked nor for how long, but his feelings were still the same - that little voice telling him to end it, free himself forever from his personal hell. It was sounding very tempting. Like the dozen times he had found himself on top of one of the buildings at school, the highest and it was only three floors which probably meant he wouldn't die, just be injured. As he sat on a bus stop bench he recalled the worst day in his school-aged life.

_**FLASHBACK:**_

Fifteen-year-old sneaker-clad H.M. Murdock ("Manic Murdock" to the school bullies) was about to climb onto the roof of the four-story building, hoping this time he would have the courage to just jump, to listen to the inner voice, make the damn thing happy so he'd never have to worry about it or anything else again. He didn't know why he had those feelings, but he didn't think he'd always been like this.

_**END FLASHBACK:**_

On that bench now, older but so much still that child, he thought about how he'd run rings around the school councillor when one of his teachers had sent him to her. He spun her stories for his actions that were easy to remember, and she believed him – why the hell she did he didn't know.

Though she was nice to him, she didn't help him. Part of him just didn't trust her, not like he now trusted Hannibal, Face, and, most of the time, B.A. too.

_**FLASHBACK:**_

This time he would make it. Jump and land with a splat on the hard ground. He could do it; he wanted to do this, right? Did he even know what he wanted anymore?

Just as he was about to jump, a hand on his arm makes him turn around. Damn, it's her. Someone he had a crush on but could never ask out. Like she - or anyone - would date an emotional basket case like him.

"H.M., please don't!" Her hand still touched him.

"Why not? I can't take this craziness anymore, Annie. It's killing me!" He put his feet back onto the ground anyway; he really didn't want her to be scared seeing his (hopeful) death.

"I don't know – because you're special and unique and I…..Please don't do it," she pleaded and from her eyes, he thought she was sincere.

"Funny, we have never really talked and yet I find it hard to say no to you." _But once you leave I'm pretty sure I am off this mortal coil. "_Wait - 'special and unique'?"

"Yeah, you don't see things as most people do. You have this… unique and childlike view of things. It's captivating." She grasped his hand and squeezed.

"Please don't do this. I'll listen if you want to talk… I know I'm not a councillor, but I will listen."

So he had sat with her on the stairs, talking long after all of the staff and other students had gone home.

_**END FLASHBACK:**_

It was the stupidest thing he ever did and compounded the pressure of his life on him. He learned not to trust every pretty face he met, and still didn't. Sweet and caring Annie told the quarterback, who happened to be the bully that had it in for H.M.. He learned to keep things close after that, even if they ate at him.

He still cried for no reason when he was alone at night. That moment between being awake and succumbing to sleep was the darkest, wishing you were dead because you so hated life, dreading the whole 'Manic Murdock' chants at school that would echo the next day.

"When did that happy, content, and innocent child in those old family snaps die? Before or after Mother and Father started fighting? It was my fault anyway; I never did anything right. So fucking stupid!"

He pulled up his jacket sleeve and looked at the faint marks; if you didn't know they were there you'd never see them. But he put them there, every last one over Christmas one year. There were some more on the other arm too. Some people don't like Valentine 's Day (Face not one of them) and some people hate birthdays; for Murdock it was Christmas. One year he spent alone as his parents were in the hospital after a fight. Yeah, it was crap-tacular that year. He was only fourteen and he tried to avoid Christmas like the plague for the next few years. Too many memories he didn't want at the surface. As more memories surfaced, he knew his suicidal tendencies were not far behind. He had to decide now. Do it, like he never had to guts to, or go home, face the guys, and get help.

_Fuck, death would be so easy. No Decker, no hospitals, no pain, no mind games. No, you're better than that! You were a fighter once… But you are Captain H.M. Murdock, A-Team pilot! Yeah, what the fuck am I thinking? Hang on, guys, I'm coming home to you, quirks, nightmares, bad singing and all._

He took off running in the direction of their accommodation, singing _'You're gonna make it after all'_ rather terribly. Thump, thump, thump went his sneaker-clad feet as he raced across the streets. After a few blocks he had to slow down to work off a stitch; he was a pilot, not a marathon runner after all. Once his breathing didn't hurt he went on until he came to a payphone. Putting in the change he dialled the apartment.

"Hannibal? Yeah it's me. Can you come pick me up?"

"Sure thing. Are you okay, Murdock? You sound out of breath."

"You run four blocks on impulse and see how you feel. I'll be fine." He gave Hannibal the address and rang off. Now he just had to wait. Hannibal said Face had volunteered to pick him up and would be there in ten minutes. _So, now it's just you and your brain. So don't say anything and we'll get along just fine._

Ten minutes felt like a lot longer as he waited for Face to show up. Looking at his watch, he saw he had been gone for over four hours now. He could feel that his negative feelings were still there and that worried him a bit; they were unpredictably sneaky buggers and you never quite knew what they were planning. Headlights shown down the road towards him and then Face's Corvette came into view. It pulled up at the curb and Face jumped out, walking over to his friend.

"Hey, you okay? Hannibal sounded worried."

"Yeah….No…" A pause.

"I, uh, did contemplate suicide but - "

"You WHAT?" Face's eyes were wide with shock and concern.

"I didn't go through with it obviously!"

"And that makes it okay? Murdock, talk to me. What happened?"

"I was born! That's what happened!" Murdock said jokingly.

"Murdock," Face said in _that_ tone and Murdock nodded.

"Okay! I know what ya mean. Can we move to the Corvette? My legs kinda hurt. I did run four blocks."

Once both men were settled into the car Murdock took a deep breath. _Once this cat's outta the bag she won't go back in. _Face had his arms crossed over his chest, looking at Murdock and waiting.

"All I wanted was a drink at a bar, right? Maybe meet a lady friend maybe – okay, so that's a little fantasy but I'm entitled to dream."

"Yeah, so what happened?"

"This guy recognised me and he just kept dragging up my mental state, crashed choppers, wanting to 'hit' on Amy... It just gets to be too much sometimes. Fuck, I only wanted a beer!"

"Sounds like a real jerk. Did you hit him?"

"Why does everyone think I'm violent? I'm a lover, not a fighter by heart. I wanted to, yeah – but I didn't!"

"I know that-"

"Sorry. Look I'm not mad at you. I… I just don't… Why couldn't I just have a quiet beer?" He tried to fight back the tears he knew were forming. Face must have sensed them too as he put a hand on Murdock's shoulder.

"Fuck that asshole! Why don't we go to the liquor store on the way back? I think I could use a drink too," Face said as he started the engine.

"Yeah, I'd like that," Murdock whispered in a low sad voice. "Thanks, Face"

"That's what friends are for. I'm sorry too."

"Uh, what are you sorry for?"

"All the times I have been a jerk to you. You don't deserve it."

"Sometimes I do."

"Hey, I'm trying to be friendly and sincere."

"Yeah, it's creepy."

Taking one hand off the wheel, Face wacked Murdock's arm. Then he turned the radio on and 'Medicine' played. Once he heard a bit of the song, he tried to change the station but Murdock batted his hand away.

"Don't – I like it. Fitting for my mood."

Face nods and keeps driving to the bottle shop, hoping Murdock can't see the tear fall down his cheek. It is a Murdock song indeed. H.M. just listened with his eyes closed, feeling the motion of the car along the road. Arriving, they buy cruisersfor Murdock and some beers for everyone else and some beef jerky Murdock spots at the register.

When they arrived back at the apartment, B.A. had turned in for the night and Hannibal was watching some horrible Errol Flynn black and white. C_aptain Blood,_ Murdock thought at a glance. Hannibal looked up from the swash-buckling scenes at the two boys with the booze.

"Having a party, boys?"

"No. I'll let Murdock fill you in while I rustle up some snacks." Face put down the carton of beers and went into the kitchen. Opening a pink cruiser, Murdock joined Hannibal on the couch, feet up on the coffee table.

"Well, all I wanted was one beer – and well... "

When Face walked back into the room with a bag of snakes, about five minutes later he paused to watch his two friends. It was clear Murdock was crying and Hannibal was rubbing his back, as one would an upset small child. In so many ways that's what Murdock is to Hannibal and Face. When he can use all of his brain he is so brilliant. Hannibal silently motioned for Face to join them and bring him a beer too.

"Here, Hannibal," Face said as he cracked a can and placed it on the coffee table in front of the him.Murdock wriggled free of Hannibal's arms and, as Face sat next to him, he wiped his eyes. Face decided not to bring up any more of what he and Murdock had discussed. He felt like they had talked enough about it and if Murdock wanted to continue, Face had no doubt he would voice that.

"What's the movie tonight? Some John Wayne again?" he asked as he tried to open the snacks. Murdock took the bag and ripped it with his teeth, sending snacks onto the floor and his and Face's laps.

"Errol Flynn – _Captain Blood,_" Hannibal replied as he tore into the chips.

"Thank guys. I promise to talk next time these feelings surface.'' He looked at Hannibal, then Face. "Pinkie promise" he added holding up his pinkie; Face rolled his eyes, _like an innocent kid. _

He pinkie promised Face then Hannibal, and settled as far into the couch as he could, sipping on his pink cruiser. As he grew tired from watching the rather crummy movie his head found Hannibal's shoulder and in turn Face's found his. When the movie was done, Hannibal quietly cleaned up the small mess they had made, and put a blanket over his two sleeping friends. Murdock's head had slid to where Hannibal's had been and Face leaned the other way, his feet tucked under him. Turning off the set, Hannibal wished them sweet dreams before he went into his bedroom.

Murdock's dreams were of all the adventures he had been on with his friends – no, his family; they were better than friends. They cared about what happened to him, looked out for him, cared for him when things got too much. They were with him through the highs and lows. Somewhere in his dreams he also heard the song that had played in Face's car on the way to the bottle shop. As much as the song haunted him he wanted to be able to play it all the time. He loved the line _'I'm glad I know you'_. What would he do without Face, B.A., and Hannibal? Did that bear thinking about? Nope, they were here and that's all that mattered at this moment in his dream-filled bliss.

_-Fini-_


End file.
